


Take Me Out

by JenniferNapier



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Dating, Engagement, F/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferNapier/pseuds/JenniferNapier
Summary: A fanfiction work of AMC’s ‘Better Call Saul’ for Cinnabongene in AO3’s 2017 Blue Christmeth Fanwork Exchange. Prompt: McWexler Marriage Proposal. Canon Point: One month after S3 Finale; ‘Lantern’With his law license revoked, Jimmy finds work at a pawn shop while Kimberly heals from her car accident. When the status and future of their complicated yet close relationship is brought into question, a plan is set into action.





	Take Me Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinnabongene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnabongene/gifts).



# Take Me Out

By JenniferNapier

### A fanfiction work of AMC’s ‘Better Call Saul’ for Cinnabongene AO3’s 2017 Blue Christmeth Fanwork Exchange Prompt: McWexler Marriage Proposal Canon Point: One month after S3 Finale; ‘Lantern’

~~~~

It was amazing how much weight that a simple cardboard box could bear. No matter how full she’d stuffed it, it held together under the burden of her frames, files, nameplate, and other desktop doodads. Few would believe that box to be capable of bearing so much until it was actually put to the test and exceeded one's expectations before their very eyes.

Kim looked over to Jimmy-- another vessel of unexpected strength and resilience-- in his University of American Samoa sweatshirt, staring at the wall they’d painted together. “It’s a good wall.” She commented, moving over to stand beside him with her sweater jacket hitched over her right shoulder like a cape.

“Ya think?”

“Yeah.” She answered with one last glance at it before looking over at his disheartened expression and encouragingly promising, “We’ll get another.”

“...A better wall.” He vowed somberly. After an agreeing nod, she made the first step in their quest to move forward. Dwelling on their misfortune wouldn’t change it. He knew that, but she thought that he might have needed a small reminder. “Ready?” Her unexpected kiss seemed to do the trick in snapping him out of his forlorn trance. “Let’s go home.”

And with that sturdy box of belongings, they departed from their office building for the last time.

~~~~

With his license revoked for a year and her physical body in shambles, it was an understatement to say that the following week was a difficult one. In every waking moment, Kim felt a clouding guilt and uneasiness, and almost even regretted referring Mr. Gatwood to Schweikart and Cokely. But, as she was reminded every time she painstakingly fed herself, she was in no condition to work. As much as Jimmy urged her to rest and to leave her worries and responsibilities to him, she never could really obey him without biting her lip and worrying that whatever the hell he did outside of her apartment was either immoral or ridden with careless mistakes.

He deserved her good faith, and she did her best to relax and give it to him. She lay in bed one Thursday afternoon surrounded with books and magazines to entertain herself, the over-used TV remote in reach, and a tray of half-eaten breakfast at one side when she heard him come home. Sighing deeply before she cleared her throat of its film of silence, she prepared to call a greeting.

It didn’t take him long to slip into the bedroom, return the warm greeting, and smile at her cozy set up-- being one who appreciated lazing about much more than she did. She wasn’t as fond of the boredom-inducing situation. “How’s the job search going?” Kim asked as he hung his brown suit jacket in the closet.

“Um, pretty good actually. I got hired! At, ah, Farley’s Gold and Pawn.”

Kim blinked, trying to take the news with some tact and keep her voice non-judgmental. “...A pawn shop?” She asked, remaining outwardly neutral about the new information but having her doubts and suspicions nonetheless.

He shrugged as he began working on freeing himself of his crimson necktie, giving her plenty of eye contact and tentatively proud body language. “Yeah. It’s kinda fun. Lotta antiques there. There’s a sewing machine from the 1700’s that I'm ninety percent sure belonged to Besty Ross.” As the silk tie slid out from his collar, he gave her a point of his finger that was aimed to convince her of that claim.

She mulled over his new job (not the antique sewing machine) for a minute before carefully weaving her words together with some assuaging humor. “Is it full of dirty rotten thieves and scam artists like all the stereotypes depict?” Her blue eyes brightened as he finally came to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand immediately finding one of her knees that were hidden under the covers. “Not anymore. I’m there!” Jimmy grinned with a small flourish of his other hand, taking her joke with a very good nature.

Kim searched his eager face, pained that she couldn’t give him the praise he so deserved and was obviously looking for. This didn’t feel right to her. She knew him and how crafty and less-than-conventional his work could be. _Why couldn’t he have just found something a little less sketchy and a bit more honorable? Like a bank teller, or a sales rep? He would perform so well in those careers._

“Don’t gimme that look, come on, Kim.”

She sighed and returned his touch, dropping her slightly scrutinizing gaze and asking, “How much do they pay?” He shifted to lie beside her as he replied, and she lifted her head to allow his arm to link behind her neck, smiling at the faint scent of his cologne and close presence. “It’s, ah, ten bucks an hour plus commission. Gives it a bit of a competitive atmosphere, which is nice.”

“Anything to get out of retail or food service, huh?” She grinned with a small snicker and lifted her eyes to gaze at his face.

His mischievous smile agreed with her. “There are better ways to earn a living than wearing an apron and flipping burgers. Besides, I’m good at this kinda thing.” Jimmy finished with an open palm in the air before them.

“...Just be an honest pawnbroker. Please.” She murmured, tilting her head to nestle her face into his shoulder.

“Cross my heart.”

Kimberly relaxed into his hold and found herself drifting off to sleep (as if she hadn’t napped enough this week,) not noticing his fingers combing through her unwashed blonde hair nor the breath of his kiss upon the top of her head.

~~~

A week later she’d earned a new and less-bulky cast from the doctor, like an armor downgrade in a video game, which in this case was a good thing. She’d refused to let Jimmy draw on it, certain he’d sketch an inappropriate image on her elbow. Despite his laughing protestations and request for her trust, she'd stood her ground and kept the cast clean and white. Pure and virgin-like. Penis-less.

Kim could feed herself like an normal adult again, though she still had to remind herself to take it easy and not to overwork her arm. After getting the mail and sifting through the envelopes and ads, she halted in her journey through the entryway, her eyes having fallen on the date in the corner of one letter. “Oh, shit. Shit.” She hissed to herself, hurrying to where her laptop lay dormant on the kitchen counter. She tried to quell her rapidly beating heart as she threw the screen open and typed as fast as she could to sign into her online bank account. Her healthy hand found her temple as she searched her payment history, verifying that she had indeed not paid a single bill for this new month. 

“Oh my God,” She whispered, scolding herself internally as she then logged onto her utility account. She shouldn’t have taken so much time resting and evading reality. She should have checked the mail everyday for the bills to come. _It would be alright,_ she tried to calm herself. _She would just have to pay some late fees, right? She’d never been late on all of her bills before._

But the utility account showed that she didn’t owe a dime.

Catching her stunned breath in her throat, she stared at the screen for a while before refreshing and then logging onto the cable account. Again, it showed that she _had_ paid the most recent bill. With a sharp gasp, she jumped as Jimmy snuck up from behind her and playfully attacked her sides. Snarling, “James, stop it!” she batted him away, not in the mood for his childish antics in such a time of-- 

“Wait, did you…?” She whirled around to glare into his smiling face. He responded with a single glance at her screen and a nonchalant, “Yeah, I took care of it.” before slipping away from her to dig through a cupboard for a snack, settling upon some potato chips.

Kim exhaled her stresses, then felt guilt wash over her again, replacing her relief. “No, Jimmy, this… this isn't the office. It’s not your job to worry about the bills.” She urged, rubbing her head and leaning on her elbows upon the counter.

“It’s your house, Kim. I’m not just gonna be some leech sucking you dry and living here for free.” He muttered between his food, waving away her aversion to his decision. “Call it rent.”

“That’s ridiculous, I have savings for this kind of thing, I’m not charging you rent.” She solidified, logging out of her tabs and closing her laptop in a loud defeat.

This was not how she was supposed to react to the kind deed, and he was blatantly surprised by her grumpiness. “Wull, you should be, we’re not--” He began, perfectly willing to argue that he should pull his own weight, but then finding himself attempting to change the course of his phrase part way through.

She didn’t miss a beat, squinting at him to prompt the end of that statement. “What?”

Jimmy's words flowed smoothly through his stumble, though he hadn’t necessarily found an alternate route to take yet. He was crafting one as he went. “I mean, it’s not like--”

“No, what were you gonna say?” Kim halted him and offered to finish the sentence he was very obviously going to say, and was now avoiding. “‘We’re not married?’”

“Well... yeah.” He surrendered, maintaining his confidence even though it risked upsetting her. She’d said it, not him. He patted the air with one hand, regaining control of the conversation gently. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Really, I do. And I want to show you that! Give back to you, ya know?” He opened his arms to offer, “Let me help pay the bills. Please?”

Kim heard him out and chewed on the idea for a moment before glancing down at the invisible design she was drawing onto her counter top with her nail. “...Maybe we should just… make it official.” She suggested slowly, carelessly, as if it was a simple business decision that mattered little, like a recommended shade of yellow to paint their office wall with.

She didn’t know how he would take that. She didn't even know how she would take that. Kim managed to hold back her doubts and fears, waiting to see what his reaction would be. Worse case scenario, if it was a horrible friendship-destroying idea, she could just play it as a joke and laugh it off. Right?

The blonde hesitated before glancing up at his honestly caught-off-guard expression. The sight of it was soon replaced with a mask of exaggerated surprise as he lifted his eyebrows and shut his mouth before smirking with a small laugh. “Official?” He muttered, partly repeating and partly asking.

“Yeah.” She answered automatically, not yet willing to revert to the emergency evacuation plan of calling the idea a joke. Maybe… maybe it was time to grow up and stop playing house. Maybe it was time to settle down and commit. “Would you want to?” She asked, seeking his true feelings about it and trying not to lather her voice in a biased hope.

She squinted faintly as she searched his face. He’d broken eye contact with her. That wasn't a good sign, especially when it came to Jimmy. “Ah… I don't know. I...” He smiled to mask his unpreparedness and searched for a complete sentence. For the right answer.

She quickly spared him, crafting a calm smile of her own to pardon his false one. “No sweat. I get it.” She felt her heart start to sink into a bog of loneliness and disappointment, but did her best to hide it. She shouldn’t have mentioned it. That wasn’t fair to put him on the spot like that. Especially if he didn’t share her feelings for the prospective partnership.

“I’m just not in a very good place to think about that kind of thing... After… everything...”

“I get it. Seriously.” She patted the counter as if her palm could be a gavel sentencing him to freedom from any obligation to her. It wasn’t a bitter action, but a playful one. She moved around the counter to fish out her own preferred snack from the refrigerator, a cup of yogurt. “I feel like watching a comedy, how about you?” She smiled, moving past the rocky terrain of their previous conversation and willing to leave it behind in the dust.

She smiled genuinely at him as she moved out of the kitchen to start up the television, in desperate need of something to take her mind off his rejection-- in desperate need to laugh again, after everything they’d been through the past month.

James lingered in the kitchen for only a short while before bringing his bag of chips into the living room after her.

~~~

“This here is an official seal of recognition from the American Society of--”

James tried to remain focused on the piece of absolute junk that this customer was trying to sell to him across the glass counter, absent-mindedly spinning Marco's gold and black ring on his pinky finger as the older man rambled on about the ‘collectible’ baseball bat. The signature on it belonged to some local schmuck from the seventies, not some hero from the big leagues like he claimed, and the stamp of recognition he was fervently pointing to would have washed off under the sweat from a batter’s grubby fingers-- that is, if it had it even seen any action on the field.

 _I mean come on, at least_ **engrave** _the bullshit seal of recognition from a ‘society’ that didn’t exist, if you’re going to go that far to try to con a thousand bucks off someone working at a pawn shop._ Any other broker here would have probably fallen for this shit, but not Jimmy. He would not be beat at his own game.

“Look, pal, I can give you thirty bucks for that. Not a penny more. It’s an aged wooden bat with an ink stain and a child’s marker-scribble. No one even knows who the hell Joey Smole is!” Jimmy emphasized, making an apologetic yet unwavering expression before cheering the conversation up with a brightened point of his finger. “But! If you list it on eBay, I think you could walk away with a bit more dough than that. That’s my advice, kay?” Jimmy ignored the customer’s belligerent grumbles as he left the pawn shop, spared from any more of the man’s horrible argumentative skills.

James covertly sighed as he tried to look busy polishing some antique watch, unable to get that damned word out of his mind. _Official._ He gnawed on the corner of his lip as he rubbed his cloth-covered thumb across the face of the timepiece. It would have been so easy to say ‘yes,’ right then and there. Kim had presented him an opportunity he never thought he would have stumbled upon, packed with all the ease and effortlessness he could have wished for. No expensive engagement ring, no large stunt in making the proposal, no asking her father for permission. He could have just exploded with an eager ‘Sure!’ and that would have been that. It had been very unexpected and even more tempting.

But Kim didn’t deserve that. What kind of jackass would he have been to take that free pass into the married life? She deserved an extravagant proposal, a giant ring, the whole nine yards. She deserved a real man who could give her all that, not one who conned his way into her heart and took advantage of her kindness and selflessness. Not a failed lawyer who worked at a pawn shop and barely earned enough to pay the bills for the house she was allowing him to share with her.

 _One million, one hundred sixty thousand dollars._ The money he could have had in his grasp if he hadn’t decided to do the right thing and inform Irene and her friends about the truth of his douchebaggery over that mic.

_Official. _A new level that Kim wanted to reach with him in their relationship. Before yesterday, he didn't know that he’d wanted it too.__

____

_The truth is, you've never mattered all that much to me._

__

Such phrases billowed around his restless mind like plague-bringing clouds.

__

He was disturbed from his darkening thoughts by another customer and quickly donned a friendly and service-ready demeanor. “Hey there! Can I help you?” He purred to the elderly woman who wandered up to his counter, setting the watch down before spreading his hands upon the edge of the countertop as if he was staking claim over his domain. Jimmy heard her begin mumbling about her antique cat-shaped cookie jar (which was definitely not worth more than fifteen dollars) with a humbled smile, reminded of the sweet ladies back at Sandpiper Crossing who so loved anything to do with cats.

__

As he listened, he noticed a rather large and beautiful ring fastened around her pointer finger.

__

~~~~

__

Kim tilted her head as she spread some foundation across the bruises on her face, working carefully and at an efficient pace to practice concealing her wounds. She wasn’t going anywhere tonight, and she wasn’t gussying up to impress anybody, but she wanted to establish her new makeup routine well before it was called into action. Hiding such ugly scrapes wasn’t an easy job.

__

She tried not to let her thoughts wander as she was forced to meet her own gaze in the mirror, but she couldn’t help judging the woman in front of her. Was she really alright? Was she really as strong and calm as she tried to appear to be? Perhaps a small smile would make the facade a bit more convincing. No, that looked too fake. Why couldn’t she ever smile convincingly? Like Jimmy? His smile always looked genuine, whether it was nor not.

__

_God, she loved him._

__

Exhaling to herself she tried to remain focused on the task at hand and not her emotions, she broke eye contact with herself and tried to pick out what color of blush would work with her mottled complexion. Kim closed her eyes as she lost the internal battle, unable to continue ignoring that moment they shared in the kitchen. James hadn’t shared her hopes and feelings on the matter. One of her _dreams,_ she'd slowly come to realize, though it was not one rooted in her professional ambition. That was different for her, to want something that wasn't related to work. But she wanted him.

__

She’d always tried to help him pursue his dreams. The Bar exam, the private practice, redeeming himself to Charles. She’d left HHM to start that practice with him. And look where it had gotten her. She knew these thoughts were toxic, dangerous, wrong. But she couldn’t stop them from flowing out of her, manifesting as tears and sobs that she could not contain any longer.

__

Her hands gripped the counter top. She didn’t dare to look at her reflection, attempting to catch her breath while blinking through blurred vision as her tears dripped into the sink and hurried down the drain in case anyone else saw them. It was almost as if they predicted the bathroom door would open at that moment. “Kim?”

__

Before she could find an excuse, wipe her face dry, or even feel any embarrassment, she was wrapped in his embrace. Resisting his excessive touch at first, still determined not to allow herself to be weak, she protested, “I’m fine.” But Jimmy wasn’t buying it. Giving up and crying into his chest, she allowed herself to crumble, letting it all out-- every fear, every pain, every broken dream.

__

Well, almost every one. 

__

He didn’t need to feel guilty about declining her suggestion the other day. She retained enough self control not to mention her pain concerning that, but she whimpered about everything else under the sun. It was pathetic. But it felt so good to release all the emotions that she had bottled up. Sighing in recovery from her breakdown, she parted from his wet shirt to dry her face with her hands, dreading to see what mess she’d made of her makeup. “I’m sorry.”

__

He leaned over to snatch a cloth from the counter to aid her efforts in cleaning herself up. “Don’t be sorry. It’s about time you let all that shit out.”

__

_Damn straight._ She choked on a small laugh as she accepted the cloth, embarrassed yet relieved. She'd never known how cathartic a good cry could be, especially in the arms of another.

__

“...Where’s your suitcase?”

__

Kimberly looked up at him, confused at the sudden question that seemed so irrelevant to the meltdown that just happened. “...What?”

__

“You said you miss your mom. And pop. So, let’s go.” He nodded, as if it was the simplest and most straightforward solution to her problems. She studied his gentle face and baby blue eyes, unable to contain a flash of a hopeful grin for very long. “‘Jimmy, no, we’re not going all the way to Kansas.” She shook her head with a sober smile and placed the towel back on the counter, having served its purpose in erasing her attempts to conceal her wounds.

__

“Yes, we are. And you’re going to want your suitcase.” James wagged a finger at her before stepping around her to search for it. “It’s not like you gotta worry about taking work off or anything.” He snickered before ducking into her closet. Kim massaged her temples and gave up in trying to wipe the stupid grin off her face as he called triumphantly from around the corner, “Aha, found it!”

__

~~~

__

Early the next morning, Mr. Farley paused in his work opening the pawn shop to turn at the musical jingle of the front door. “You’re not scheduled to work today, Jimmy. What are you doing?” He was answered with the presentation of a guitar case.

__

“I’m pawning this.”

__

The older man sighed, displeased that he was being bothered by an employee-turned-customer in the early hours of his store’s operation. “A guitar?”

__

“Not just any old guitar.” Jimmy held up an enticing finger and clicked open the case, revealing the pearlescent white instrument before making his pitch. “This is a fender stratocaster hand-signed by _the_ Ritchie Blackmore. It’s worth _no less_ than fifteen hundred dollars-- trust me, this isn’t my first rodeo-- and even _that’s_ a steal.”

__

Mr. Farley raised his brow and inspected the item, namely the signature. It was real, alright. His spirits lifted. “How the hell did you get this? She’s beautiful. You sure you ain’t selling?”

__

“No way in hell.” Jimmy laughed, smiling proudly at the reward he’d earned in exchange for some back pain. His boss wasn’t so easily deterred. “I’ll give you two-thousand if you sell.”

__

Two-thousand was a mighty fine price, but James stood his ground and waved a hand to dispel the idea as he finalized in a friendly tone, “Pawning only.”

__

“Fine. Thirteen hundred.” Mr. Farley set the instrument back in its velveteen case as he accepted that he wasn’t going to change Jimmy’s mind on the matter, for now.

__

The ex-lawyer was quick to cut in with a correcting point. “Ah-ah, I said fifteen at the least.”

__

“Then, no deal, Jimmy.”

__

He was a hard man to budge, but Mr. Farley was not the master of this game. Jimmy gently tried to maintain his patience and pointedly glanced at the time on his wrist before hitching a thumb back towards the door. “Look, I got a flight to catch, and I can’t sit here bartering with you about this. Fifteen hundred, or it’s going to another pawn shop.”

__

“Fourteen.”

__

Closer, but still not the desired amount. Spreading his hands in a pleading shrug, James lowered his voice, dropping some of his tough guy act to connect with his boss on a more personal level. “Come on, Mark.” Now it was Mr. Farley’s turn to point an authoritative finger. “You may be my star employee but I’m not budging. I got a business to run. Fourteen hundred bucks in cash, you pay ten percent interest for the first month, four percent per month afterwards-- until you pay the whole thing off.” 

__

While that made the APR atrociously high, it was one of the better deals that the shop offered. Mark’s way of cutting his ‘star employee’ a break. “Fine. But I need more than fourteen-hundred.” Jimmy sighed, tilting his head in a display of reluctant compromise.

__

“Brought any other treasures with you?” Mark suggested optimistically, glancing down at the younger man’s watch, which Jimmy noticed with a glare. After a beat of staring at each other, Jimmy pressed his lips together and began detaching his watch from his arm.

__

Mark tried to hide his smirk, making small talk as he eyed the timepiece on his employee’s wrist. “Thought you were in a rush. Going on an impromptu vacation, sounds like? You’re not runnin’ from the FBI or anything, right?”

__

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Jimmy muttered unenthusiastically before he handed the item over, emphasizing, “Bulova. Gold-toned stainless steel. I got this for five-hundred.”

__

Mark was enjoying possessing the power in the trade, examining the warm metal slowly. “There’s no way. Three-hundred, tops.”

__

“Four.” Jimmy insisted bluntly, quickly transposing from confident and affable to cold and demanding.

__

Mr. Farley raised his eyebrows again, smiling in arrogance at Jimmy. “Lotta fours today. Deal. But let me guess, you need even more? Just can’t ever be satisfied with whatcha got, huh, Jimmy? Where the hell you flying to? Belize?”

__

Jimmy rolled his eyes, not wanting to be reminded of the prime vacation spot he’d never visit. “The flight was only nine-hundred. This is for what comes after.” He mumbled, not needing to explain himself, but hoping it would get the message across that he needed the money. He chewed on his inner cheek and looked around, thinking of how to mold the situation to his liking once again.

__

Then, reluctantly, he moved to touch the band of metal around his left pinky finger.

__

“A ring?”

__

Jimmy cleared his throat and set his cold blue eyes on Mark’s brown ones before sliding the ring off his finger and displaying it between their gaze. “This is a very special ring. It belonged to my dear friend, who passed away. Not long ago. It is… invaluable, to me.” He expressed earnestly. A last ditch effort to accomplish his goal.

__

“Jesus, that like a mafia ring? Let me see it.” Mark asked, taking the piece of jewelry from him and reaching for a magnifying glass. James swallowed as he watched his boss inspect it, knowing what he would find. “Jimmy, is this real gold? Fourteen karats? This in itself could be worth two-thousand. At least! Keep your guitar and your watch.” Mr. Farley glanced up at him, appalled that this treasure was offered as a last resort.

__

Jimmy sighed, having to really, really fight his inner self. Mark could be convinced about its worth for a few hours, until he actually tested it and found it to be a fluke. He and Kim would be on the plane by then, but James would have repercussions to deal with upon their return. He knew it was a short-term solution to convince Mark it was real gold. It would only lead to trouble in the long run.

__

And besides, he’d crossed his heart to Kim promising to be an honest pawnbroker.

__

“It’s, ah…. it’s fool’s gold, Mark.” He struggled slightly to admit it, throwing away his chance to get away with far more money than he should have. It felt like shit to be honest. But he’d promised Kim. Lifting one hand, he continued, “Not worth more than a couple hundred. But Mark, I… that’s one of the most important rings in the world, to me.” Both hands moved towards the broker parallel with each other in a subtle plea. Mr. Farley was obviously disappointed by the truth. He had also seen at least a glimpse of James’ struggle to tell him the truth. “....If it’s worth two hundred, I’ll give ya two-hundred. No more.”

__

“Come on, man.” Jimmy tilted his head and slacked his jaw like a starving mutt.

__

“Look, I wish I could give you more, but you know the law, Jimmy, I can’t give you more than two thousand bucks at a time.”

__

“Per item!” James emphasized, sounding very convincing. But Mark knew the laws of his business, and was not going to be tricked into misunderstanding technicalities. “No, per customer, at a time. You want more, come back after your trip.”

__

Jimmy glanced down at his ring. Marco’s ring. “Two hundred.” He agreed quietly with a wounded heart and a dry throat.

__

~~~

__

Kim didn’t know how to feel about this whole running home thing. She’d never thought Kansas would be the destination that would give her an escape from her problems. Quite the contrary, actually. At least, that’s how it was nearly two decades ago. She supposed Jimmy could be right, that returning to her roots and connecting with her family again could be what she’d needed for a while.

__

She didn’t try to deny that her support structure in Albuquerque was seriously lacking. Jimmy was her only real friend there-- the only person who had seriously tried to make a genuine connection with her during her time in the desert state. Perhaps he’d just been the only person that she had allowed through her internal walls. These were all facts that made his rejection to her nonchalant proposal all the more painful.

__

Her tender thoughts about their bond were interrupted when he came back home from his early morning errand, and she craned her stiff neck over the back of the couch to see him disappear into the kitchen. “Hey.” She called in greeting, hearing him answer back and then start rambling about the drive and complain about the morning traffic.

__

Kim listened half-heartedly, knowing by his tone and distractedness that he was just making small talk. Kim never cared for small talk, though she valued the sound of his persuasive voice enough to at least pretend to listen to small talk when it came from him. After a moment, she sighed and paused the television in front of her and let his words drift away. “...Are you sure we should do this?” She called, eyeing the coffee table in front of her and starting to feel an undeserving guilt creep back into her mind.

__

“‘Course we should! You haven’t seen your folks in years! They probably think you’re dead.” Jimmy answered back with a dry humor. She could faintly hear him tapping away on her laptop, igniting a curiosity within her. “Did you get all packed up?”

__

She gnawed on her inner lip and hauled her dormant body to its feet, answering with a groan, “Yeap.” before moseying over to lean in the doorway to the kitchen, seeing the light from the hidden screen flash across his shirt and concentrated face. “...Can I ask... where you got the money for such a spontaneous adventure?” She rested her temple against the wood and studied his uplit face as he glanced at her and smiled gently.

__

“Work.”

__

Simple and honest. Or so it seemed. She nodded and glanced toward the counter, and then at the back of the laptop. “Have you been working overtime or something…? You get communion, right? Score a big one?” That appeared to bring out a curt laugh from his throat and he held her gaze for a little longer this time. “Yeah. I… I scored a big one, alright.” He answered with a lingering smile. He was excited for this trip, and it was contagious. Kim found herself smiling too, and she grinned and turned away as if she could avoid the happiness his expressions brought her.

__

Jimmy smiled to himself and finished a few clicks of the keyboard, pocketing his credit card that he had been hiding from her behind the screen and sending their tickets to the printer. “Can you grab those?” He called, though she was already making her way over to the noisy device.

__

He shut down and closed the lid of the computer before jogging over to stand behind her shoulder as she examined the papers, her uplifted expression falling like an anvil from the sky. “Oh my god, Jimmy….” He bit his lip and tried to stifle a grin as he studied her appalled expression. “I thought we could go see a game while we were there. I know how much you love the Royals, you know, so I… I got us the best seats in the house! Or, uh… field.”

__

Kim had her good arm lifted to press her hand against her mouth. “These are level 300 seats! And against the Red Sox? How did you afford…?” She whirled around to stare at him, her eyes wet. “Well, I told ya. Work.” He reminded her gently before accepting her sudden embrace and feeling her delighted sobs pulse against his chest.

__

~~

__

The flight was an enjoyable one, which was a rare thing for Kim. While she enjoyed the bustling energy of an airport, she despised being seated in a cramped aircraft with no leg space. She was torn between gazing out the window to her left to enjoy the spectacular sight of the world or gazing over to Jimmy on her right, as both were equally captivating and attractive. The two of them talked and snickered to each other for the duration of the flight, trying to keep their voices hushed so as not to disturb the elderly slumbering folks around them.

__

They each took turns donning horrible accents as they read aloud the horribly written content of a few pamphlets in the most obnoxious way possible, then analyzed and critiqued the character of other passengers based off their appearances, before trying the airline’s shitty but complimentary drinks that were reserved for the standard class passengers.

__

The air in Kansas was noticeably different than the air in New Mexico, and her lungs seemed to expand beyond their usual capacity in a sort of internal celebration after being deprived of it for so long. She didn’t hesitate to grin and point out to every landmark on both the flat horizon and the flimsy paper map they’d picked up, giving Jimmy a reminiscent and enthused verbal tour of Kansas City and her hometown near Falls City over the Nebraska border.

__

The unimpressive streets, corner markets, gas station (yes, singular,) and aged buildings of her childhood simultaneously made her cringe and smile sadly. It was kind of embarrassing revealing her lackluster beginnings to James, but he didn’t make too many jokes about it, and for the ones he did make, she shared in their laughter.

__

She brought their rental car to a halt outside of a run down farmhouse, her eyes flickering over the cracked wood and cracked cement of the facade. Her house both looked not a day older than when she had left it, but also ancient and abandoned in comparison. “That your house?” Jimmy asked excitedly.

__

“Yeah…” She answered, hesitating to put the vehicle into park. Faded paint on the mailbox her father built still read ‘Wexler,’ and a long-forgotten bike lay in a bush up the dirt driveway. She was nervous to show up unannounced to her parents’ house, but after being encouraged and persuaded by her company, she eventually led the way up to the door and rang the old electric bell.

__

Kim practically burst into a teary grin as her beloved mother answered the door, crying out in a delighted surprise and opening the screen quickly to hug her daughter. Her father stepped out next, and she was embraced by the scent of his dirt-caked and cologne-tainted plaid shirt. They had more wrinkles and grey hairs than she remembered, and it pained her to realize how much they had aged since her departure. Another wave of guilt crept over her, as if her absence had brought them closer to death.

__

They invited them in, and Kim continued to fight back tears as she saw what they had changed about the quaint little house-- and what had stayed exactly the same. Her childhood bedroom had been preserved in time, complete with her horse figurines on her bookshelf that were free of dust as if she had played with them only yesterday.

__

Jimmy made quick work of capturing her parents’ hearts, bringing color and life to their world through his talent of conversation. Kim enjoyed letting him do a lot of talking, smiling proudly at his energy and expressions as her parents nodded and became enthralled in his Chicago accent. She caught her mother glancing over to her with a tight-lipped smile of fondness.

__

Later in the kitchen, she was pounced upon by her mother, who whispered excitedly about how wonderful Jimmy was, and if they were together or not. “I know, he’s…. He’s great.” Kim answered, keeping her emotions under control, for once that day. She knew she couldn’t hide her feelings from her mother, and after some pressuring, the truth soon came out about how she had asked him if he was interested in taking their relationship to another level, only to find out that he wasn’t.

__

“Oh, honey… I’m so sorry. Is he just..?”

__

Kim cleared her throat and glanced over to the living room, where Jimmy’s business-like hand gestures held her father's utmost attention. “He’s just… not ready.” She answered carefully, truthfully. A family had never been on Jimmy’s list of goals. Perhaps witnessing his brother’s failed marriage contributed to that. Perhaps he just was too obsessed with making something great of himself to stop and see what opportunities for greatness were right in front of him.

__

~~

__

One particular bar in Kansas City was abuzz with a riot of laughing and arguing male voices. Business was great and the alcohol flowed like a river. Such was how The Rademaker always was the night before a big game, except this one was bigger. The Boston Red Sox vs. the Kansas City Royals was the game that the locals had both dreamed of and dreaded for the whole season.

__

Jason Kammeyer sat alone at this particular bar, making good progress downing a fresh bottle of Budweiser and ignoring the gossiping snickers of the other patrons, strangers and familiar faces alike. ‘Two to one, twice a loser.’ That was the newest joke floating around the room, along with, ‘A biased fan makes a good broke man.’ Five-star comedians, the lot of them.

__

He was about to leave when a stranger slid into the seat beside him at the bar, greeting him with an energetic and partially sympathetic voice. “Kammeyer in a quagmire, is that you they’re talking about?”

__

“Here for an autograph?” Jason growled drowsily, almost too tipsy to recognize the wary feeling he got from the man. He was from out of town, and his accent reeked of Chicago. “What do you want?”

__

“Nothin’, I just-- didja really blow all your money on the Royals winning tomorrow’s game?”

__

“Look, you Red Sox fans can go--” He began insulting, but was cut short by the other man’s waving fingers. “No, no, no, I’m a Royals guy. Hardcore. Well, you see, my girlfriend, she’s nuts for them. Loved them ever since she could walk!”

__

“Oh yeah?” Jason asked rhetorically, not giving more than two shits about his story, even if it was true. “Yeah, I got her tickets to the game tomorrow and… well…. I want to make her day something really, really special, you know?”

__

“That’s great.” Jason muttered again, not very interested in the conversation.

__

“They’re gonna win tomorrow.” The man nodded with an assuring squint, causing Jason to stop mid-drink and glare at him. “You sure about that, huh? Against the Red Sox?”

__

“Yeah, you know…. Might need a bit of help, but… they’re gonna win. If you and I want ‘em to, that is.”

__

Jason set his bottle down on the counter with a loud clunk and looked the man square in his smiling blue eyes. “Look, asshole, you’re proposing rigging tomorrow’s game to the event coordinator of the Kauffman Stadium, you know that?” He hissed, offended that not only did this man have no clue who he was, but he was also implying something very, very illegal.

__

“Yeah. I do, in fact. You’re a popular guy, Jason. Lotta people look up to you.” The man nodded eagerly with a stupid friendly smile on his mug, perplexing Mr. Kammeyer. Dropping the innocent act for a moment, he turned up one hand and lowered his voice a bit. “Look, I know that must sound crazy to you, but hear me out. How much money did you bet on this game? Twenty grand?”

__

Jason turned back to his nearly empty bottle and tried to keep his vision focused on it’s green glass. “...Try a couple hundred.” He admitted in a shamefully low volume.

__

“Shit! You must have been really drunk.” The man laughed in shock, to which Mr. Kammeyer snarled, “Aw fuck off.” in response.

__

The stranger tried to quell his humored smile and raised a cooperative hand. “Look, you really don’t want to lose that much money. Trust me. That’s as much as a house-- a shit house, but a house-- yeah? You just bet a house on a baseball game.”

__

“You think I don’t know that? You think I’ve been sitting here for an hour with anything other than that running through my mind?” Jason challenged, finishing the last of the alcohol in his bottle and signaling for another to the bartender. Sighing as he caught the sliding glass, he relinquished,“We can’t rig the game. Going to jail ain't gonna fix any of my problems.”

__

“You’re not the one who’s gonna be risking jail. I am.” The stranger confided, holding Jason’s sudden scrupulous gaze. “ I just need your help to get inside. Down on the field. And I got the perfect cover story. No risk, and you’ll get your money back. Two to one, right? Think how much you’ll end up winning! And your quote ‘buddies’ who’ve been making a fool outta you all night? They’ll be eating their words in just twenty four hours.”

__

Jason waited before taking a drink of his fresh bottle, listening to the salesman-like voice of the newcomer with a renewed hope and the beginnings of a smile.“You make a good pitch. Alright, man. But what do you get out of this?”

__

“Well, a fiance, hopefully.”

__

~~~

__

It was difficult for Kim to wipe the beaming smile off her own face as they filed into the stadium the next day. They both were dazzled by the mass of the crowd, the large bright lights on the field, the lush color of the grass and dirt below, and the lively energized atmosphere of the crowd. A little more than half of the crowd was covered in blue, far outnumbering the red-clothed fans of the opposing team.

__

“You actually think we’ll win?” Kim asked as they found their seats among the bustle of the crowd with two large buckets of popcorn in tow, wearing a nice dark blue blouse and simple jeans. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we? Gotta root for the underdog right?” Jimmy vouched as they sat down, wearing some nice dark jeans and a light blue button-up shirt underneath a casual grey suit jacket. They took a few minutes to smile at each other, point at their enthralling surroundings, and talk under the loud hum of the stadium.

__

“I’m gonna hit the shitter before this thing starts, be right back.” Jimmy ungraciously informed her with a quick pat on the knee before slipping out of sight and quickly disappearing in the crowd of families finding their seats around them. Kim twiddled her fingers in parting as she enjoyed her salt and butter-coated snack, leaning forward to make sure his bucket of popcorn was tucked safely under his empty seat so any passersby wouldn’t knock it over. She sat alone for a while admiring the grand view, the scent of concessions in the air, and the simmering happiness ebbing beneath her skin. She’d missed this stadium. She’d missed the energy of the crowd and the thrill of america's favorite pastime.

__

The minutes passed slowly, but the more she glanced over at the awaiting scoreboard and the time it displayed, the more she grew worried. Jimmy had been gone much longer than he should have been, and she began to wonder if he’d become lost. She was not his mother, and she knew she had no reason to doubt his return, but when the clock ticked into position for the game to begin, she drew out her phone and dialed him. Glancing around at the crowd around her she saw that the majority of folks had found and taken their seats.

__

~~

__

One of the event employees was just hurrying over to the Royals’ coach when he stopped mid-jog and did a double take down the tunnel to the field. “Hey! What are you doing down here?” He called, proceeding to ask the seemingly lost patron to go back up the stairs and find their seat.

__

“He’s with me, Niel.” Mr. Kammeyer assured him as he approached, handing the mic and a script to the stranger. Neil nodded after giving the man another glance-over, then left to resume his rushed work. Mr. Kammeyer clapped a hand on his guest’s back before asking in a low tone. “Everything square?”

__

“Yup. Easy as cake, like I told ya.” A clear bottle that once held liquid was revealed to the event coordinator before being tucked back into the light grey suit jacket of the wanderer. “Just don’t let any of our boys take a drink from the Sox’ water cooler, alright?”

__

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” Jason laughed with encouragement as he walked than man out of the tunnel and past the gate onto the field. “Now go get her, tiger.”

__

~~

__

He wasn’t answering his phone, and the game was about to begin. Kim gave up and set her phone down on her lap, shaking her head and biting her lip. The lights shifted and the mascots began their run around the edges of the field, riling up the crowd and putting on a ridiculous show. Kim tried to share in her neighbors’ hype, but she couldn’t stop searching the heads in the sea of people around her for Jimmy.

__

In her search, she failed to notice the person she was looking for was now standing on the pitcher’s mound. “Gooood evening Kansas Cityyy!!” The familiar voice that boomed through the speakers of the stadium made her jump inside her skin and cover her mouth in shock. She stared down at the man on the field, then up at the big screen displaying his commanding grin. “How we all doin’ tonight?”  
What the fuck was Jimmy doing on the field?

__

Kim was stunned, blinking above her pressed hands and feeling her breath start releasing itself in some sort of laughter. “Arrrre you ready for some basebaaaaall?” He trilled like a wrestling match announcer. Wrong sport, Jimmy.

__

She rubbed her forehead and shook her blonde ponytail as the crowd roared obediently at his enticement. What on earth was he doing? She couldn’t stop smiling in humored pride as his voice continued to fill the stadium with life and joy. “Well, I hate to tell ya that we can’t get this game started until a few things happen. First, we gotta sing the song. Are you ready? Sing it with me, here we go!”

__

“Take me out to the ballgame,” The crowd chanted along with him, beckoned into action by his guidance and confidence, despite his horrendous singing voice which she so adored. “Take me out with the crowd. Buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks, I don’t care if I ever get back--”

__

She tried to sing along with everyone else, feeling as If Jimmy’s eyes were on her expectantly, but she was too slain with embarrassment to look back down at him or try to pretend like she was in any condition to sing at the moment. “--at the ollld balllgaaaame!” She only hoped he didn’t call her out in front of all these people--

__

It was then that she realized-- feared-- what he was potentially doing down on that field, making a fool of himself in front of all these people.

__

“Beautiful! You’re all lovely singers. Beautiful. Speaking of which-- there’s one more thing that has to happen before this game can get started tonight.”

__

Kimberly’s hand found her mouth again, and she felt her heart rate increase tenfold as she stared down at his figure in a petrified and pained hope.

__

“There’s a woman in the crowd tonight, who is very, very dear to my heart. She’s a big fan of the Royals, so you better win tonight, you hear?” Another roar of agreement from the crowd. “And... I just need to say something to her.”

__

Oh God.

__

“Can we get a camera on this lovely woman?” Jimmy requested, gesturing towards her as if he could pan the device himself. She sunk deeper into her seat, wishing to melt away into the rough plastic and escape this embarrassing yet heartwarming situation. “Section 313... blonde ponytail... beautiful woman-- There we go! You don’t need to fix your hair, stop covering your face, come on, you’re gorgeous, isn't she gorgeous, everyone?” Another roar from the crowd as Kim peeked through her fingers at the big screen, which now featured her red face and idiotic grin. And-- were those tears in her eyes? Jesus Christ.

__

“Kimberly?” Kim swallowed and mustered up the courage to remove her shielding hand and look back down at his call, trying to aim a disciplinary smile at him. This was it. He was going to ask. “Will you… grab my bucket of popcorn beside ya and dig around in it, show the camera what you find?” Her jaw dropped as he uttered a completely different set of words than she was expecting, scared for a second that this was all some kind of dick-headed prank on her already wounded heart. But as she began to comprehend his words, already halfway through doing what he asked, she realized what it was he’d asked her to look for.

__

Sure enough, there was a ziploc bag containing a blue velveteen box at the bottom of his popcorn bucket.“There it is.” She almost couldn’t hear his voice on the speakers anymore, opening the bag and running her thumbs over the blue box.

__

Her vision blurred as she lifted the lid to reveal a sapphire and white gold engagement ring. “Kimberly Wexler, wouldja like to marry me?”

__

~~

__

His heart was beating far harder and faster than it ever had before, and his throat suddenly became as dry as the Sahara after he popped the question. He glanced to the big screen, lowering the mic as the crowd aww’ed and cheered. Kimberly was a wreck of tears, and he felt partially bad for embarrassing her in front of her entire hometown like this, but she deserved something extravagant like this. He’d done it. He’d crafted the best engagement proposal for her, and it was worth every penny, every risk, every sacrifice.

__

She was still for a moment, entranced by the sight of the ring, then began nodding viciously as her sobbing shifted into laughter. Catching his own breath, he brought the mic back up to his emotional grin and spent what little pompous energy he had left in announcing, “I… I think that’s a yes!” He then swallowed once more as the crowd roared with a stupor unlike any the stadium had seen before and parted from the field with a victorious, “Go Royals!!”

__

Jimmy ran through the gate and back into the tunnel, handing the mic and script for the song to somebody as he passed a crowd of congratulating officials-- including a few members of the Red Sox’ team, who were clapping along with the others in between distorted expressions reflecting a particularly queasy feeling in their gut.

__

The stairway back up the the third level was empty save for the distant echoes of the game commencing and the eagerness of the crowd. James hauled himself up the concrete structure with a grin on his face and a racing heart, feeling decades younger yet more mature than he’d felt in a while. Looking up from the steps at the sound of more footsteps, he claimed steady footing in time to catch Kimberly as she flung herself down into his arms. They embraced against the cold walls of the staircase for a few emotional moments before he took her left hand in his and witnessed the sapphire ring on her finger for the first time.

__

Needless to say, the underdog did end up scoring a big one that day.

__


End file.
